Onceler in Superjail!
by CIF-lover
Summary: This is obviously a crossover between "The Lorax" and "Superjail". The Once-ler has been a bad boy in setting up in his business empire and it is up to the Warden to bring him to justice. Unfortunately, romance ensues as well as the same old jailhouse shenanigans. Will they Once-ler be able to escape the childish Warden? Once-ler X Warden. Read at at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own either "Superjail!" or "The Lorax". I cannot believe I said that in the same sentence. I also do not own the beautiful artwork attached to this story. That blessing was conjured up by Alethehedgehog1 on deviantart. Check them out, if you like it as much as I do. Sorry, I cannot make a link on this site.

This is a request fanfiction done for my one hundreth reviewer on "The Real Curse". Thank you Once-ler Upon a Marshmallow!

Pilot, Part One: Going Home.

Fortune sometimes shines on peasants. Occasionally they get an easy break or everything just works out as planned. Things like that were enough for common folk but the same could not be said for the Once-ler. No, the savvy business man had become more persnickety. He required more to make his days marvelous. Only things like free labor and still steadily rising numbers could be enough to assuage his tastes and leave him thoroughly satisfied. This was one of the days, the one he had just had. His production of thneeds had just shot up above two billion with no indications of slowing. Signs all over the premises declared this as he passed through the halls to the factory beneath his office. Down in the metal bowels near the earth, the constant chant could be clearly heard. Protestors had caught up with him but much too late and they only knew the half of what he had done.

The floundering activists that had taken to camping out at the factory's doorstep were a minor hindrance and the sole remainder of the part of Thneedville that was not his domain. The only reason the police had not thrown them into stockades for their insolence was that the action would require just cause and such a brutal one would require more, a filed complaint on the poor defenseless disease spreading fleas upon society, which would bare a negative effect on the position of his company. If the Once-ler had his way, the whole lot of them would be in his shops, working to the death, like all his little 'children'. The green suited man stopped before the factory floor doors to sector C-5. This was the wretched place to which he had been summoned. Another death meant one less mouth to feed but it also lessened production. The slightly rusted metal door even had a few blood stains on it. He remembered this sector, a female workstation. The girls here were still rather young for fraternization but it was still best to keep the boys and girls apart. The less the workers talked, the better. He pushed open the screeching tetnis infested slabs of rust to find the girls all huddled in the corner together. Most of them were clutching the matted rags they used as clothes in white knuckled vices and had the palest most fearful faces he had ever witnessed for a simple factory death. Perhaps such young workers were a bad idea after all, if they could not even take seeing a fellow meet her end. He may have to return them to the orphanage on his next search for workers. He recognized that a great deal of the factory workers harbored a deeply ingrained fear of him but the slack jawed mouths and wide eyed stares pointed at him seemed a bit much. Pupils dilated in fear were focused all on him but not a single girl moved from the gaggle. His 'children' would have to be punished for shirking their duties to loll about gaping at him. Dealing with the workers was one of his least favorite duties but the Once-ler recognized the necessity of it. Without discipline, things like this would happen: deaths followed by piss drenched tiny feet clustering together in a tight nearly seamless mass.

All forty eight eyes of that terrified entity focused as one until the Once-ler knew for sure that they were actually trained on something behind him, a tad too late. A sleek metal appendage clamped around his wrists jerking them forward with a cutting ripping pain before a sharp clink sealed his fate. The cops had him! Those cowards must have finally caved to the whining of activists. He turned to face his captor with an arrogant grin painted across his face, if he was going down, he better at least keep face doing it. Only, what he found floating behind him was not the face of a worthless Thneedville pig, but a screen decorated with angry green dots all sending calculated death threats to the entrepreneur.

The dignified man let out a shriek as it finally sunk in that this over grown PDA was what had his 'children' so frightened and that its newest target was him. Following his lead, the girls let out a chorus of wails of their own which was enough for the death machine to become distracted for just a moment giving the lanky man a small period to make his escape. Pushing away from the solid mass of white colored metal, he sprang to life and fled to the only place he could think to go, his sanctuary, his office. In his panic, he dashed right on past the elevators and performed a staggering jolt up the stairs that had his body ricocheting like a disoriented ping pong ball between the safety rails and the unforgiving wall. Reaching the upper levels, he was sure he had escaped the beast. The security here was tighter and he could always lock himself up in his office until the menace was nullified.

The crossing into the threshold of his personal office introduced several disturbing realizations to his terrified mind: he was panting, out of breath, tired, his limbs ached from the dash up here, beads of sweat were dripping down awkward paths and making him uncomfortable, but most importantly, he was neither safe nor alone. A dreadfully immense silhouette loomed over his frightened form as he turned to fumble to undo the locks on the lavish wooden door to no avail. He dropped his keys and as he hunched to grasp them in both his cuffed hands, the monster-bot caught him by his designer coat and the imported rugs fell from beneath his feet. Soon, even the horrible fumes from his factory were just a memory of the past. Those faded about the same time as the disgusting singing of the protesters. Even with his untimely departure, those would not cease.

The whole world seemed to pass beneath his feet. Some of it he had seen on his trip looking for the perfect material for his thneed but eventually even that returned to a hopeless memory. He would probably never see any of these places again if this robot had anything to say about it. The Once-ler's captor was absolutely no help in deciphering where they were headed but he was sure that it was some sort of penitentiary. The journey was decidedly less comfortable than the one he undertook with Melvin and it was certainly draftier but at least his coat was holding up and he somehow had managed to keep his top hat on his head regardless of the devious wind's desires to snatch it away. Just as another bore induced yawn claimed his mouth making it surrender to the eye watering gesture of sleepiness, an enormous volcano took over nearly a quarter of the horizon. The monstrosity only ate more ground as the pair of aeronautical travelers approached it. The unresponsive machine was going to drop him in a volcano. What a waste of a trip. There weren't any boiling pits of lava closer to Thneedville than this or did it have to be the planet's biggest portal to hell?

The dejected man perked up a bit as he noticed a small mountain protruding from the center of the pit of magma. Was the flying toaster going to leave him there? "Um, hey, Metal-Man, I don't know about you but I can't really swim in substances above a thousand degrees Fahrenheit." Nothing, not even a budge in the path of the metallic behemoth showed that his statement was understood or even heard. "Also- aslo, I forgot my lava suit at home with my floaties so can we like reschedule this vacation? Hey you, Flying Robot Police Thing, I can't go there! Hello, are you even listening to me? The heat will kill me." The abductor was as unsympathetic as ever. It flew just enough higher to keep the suited man from feeling as though he might catch on fire over the lake of menacingly glowing liquid mineral until the two reached the landmass at its center. Then, the flying Once-ler-napping contraption ascended to reach the gleaming golden city at its peak which actually left the young business man gaping much like his workers had been before he was taken away.

The design was whimsical in nature with all of its winding loopy ramps and pathways. It looked like a theme park modeled after a grinning gap toothed buffoon. Telltale orange jumpsuits confirmed his previous suspicions, as they meandered stories beneath the green suited man working on whatever job had been bestowed upon them. Even at a distance, the villainous beasts looked far larger than he. The Once-ler gulped, this was going to be a long sentence.

Polished leather shoes met a grassy lawn and a blue bubble encompassed the Once-ler. The hulking machine had left the suited man to stare at the motley crew chosen to be his welcome committee. The first person that caught his eye was heavily muscled and of an undeterminable gender, it had a ponytail of an unnaturally red hair to match its sparkly red shades, breasts to rival the size of its enormous biceps, a five o' clock shadow, and even man parts pretty clearly visible from beneath the navy blue jail guard mini skirt that went with the rest of its weird appearance.

The next strange greeter was a midget with a sweat leaking enormous forehead that was only emphasized by his receding hairline. His suit was a boring brown that spoke volumes about his anal retentive nature and his yellow shirt and blue tie were cheaply made. He was, overall, unremarkable.

Contemptuous blue eyes shifted to the most important character in this cast of freaks. He looked like a pimp wanna be in his purple suit and top hat with poppy red accents. He too, wore a yellow shirt but his was of a much higher quality than the smaller man's. This was the man with the gap toothed smile that this place was made to emulate. He appeared childish for his position in his big yellow glasses but the Once-ler could not help but notice certain similarities between this man's and his own suit. The most differences he could spot were the curling coattails streaming from the purple garment, a too bright red cummerbund, a matching red bowtie, and the fact that the whole color scheme was probably picked out by a color blind moron.

The slim gap toothed crime against fashion stepped forward to address the Onc-ler, "Hello gentlemen! I am the Warden and you are quite welcome for your final chance at redemption," The Warden sauntered closer using a jewel capped golden cane. "Aw Fiddlesticks! I am used to giving this speech for more than one inmate at once. Well anyways, welcome to Superjail!, the biggest, most efficient jail in all of the next six dimensions!" That was it, the deciding factor, it did not matter that the scenery here was comprised of a garden that made everyone look like they were the size of insects, oh no, it was this man's crazy demeanor. This whole place was Lorax certifiably insane.

Cue commercial break!

Warden: This is the part of the show where those of us who live in Superjail try to sell you useless junk that you don't need! I go first because I am the Warden. I am selling both men's and women's underwear that have, drumroll please, all been worn by ME! Warning: They only come in the color red. Next is the ever Luscious Alice!

Alice: I'm selling an old weight set, only slightly battered and bloody. Buy it.

Warden: Okay, I seems like that is all the time we have for today. Tune in next time for the Waden's Superjail! garage sale! Ooh. That rhymes.

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If you cannot tell this is a crossover fanfiction between "Superjail!" and "The Lorax". It is slash between the Once-ler and the Warden which means they are gay, or at least like guys. This may get a bit cracky because it will follow more of a cartoon formula where insanity ensues and then everything is 'normal' in the next episode. There are ten episodes in every "Superjail!" season and that is what I am shooting for here.

I also added pointless commercials for the breaks in the episodes. Try to enjoy them... ^.^;


	2. Pilot part two of three

Disclaimer: I disclaim all but the CIF.

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Episode one, Part two: Who really is in charge.

As always (like this is not still the pilot of this crazy fest) the convicts have taken control of the recording studio to bring a bit more of an illegal flare to this production. Oh my! This particular episode seems to go to two delightfully unibrowed blonds. Uh-oh, they seem to have no distinguishing characteristic between them, just the same wavy hair tumbling nearly to their shoulders, and blue jumpsuits. Wait where did two Superjail! Prisoners get street clothes?... Do those really count as streets though?

Twin One: Hello Earth peoples. It seems that you have come into this story at an 'unfortunate' time.

Twin Two: Very true Brother, they have missed all of the 'fun' we had planned.

Gemelo Numero Uno: Not quite Brother, there is still more fun to be wrought.

Gemelo Numero Dou: Oh yes. Mh-hm *insert some sort of hummed chuckle here* That is, if the Warden continues to use his little 'gift'.

End commercial break!

It may have been the gleaming metal structures of the penitentiary reflecting the scorching rays of the sun, the volcanic fumes of heat that might have reached up this high, or his suffocating suit that caused the heat stroke delirium. Whatever it was, the Once-ler was higher than even a swomme swan could fly. He expected the other inmates to fight. He even expected them to kill one another but what he did not anticipate was the how in this scenario. It was, by far, the most gruesome use of marshmallows he had ever encountered. The puffy confections were laced with a highly corrosive acid and inmates were throwing them at one another and feeding them to each other. Just watching a man's abdomen melt away to expose his inner stomach, intestines, and whatever else happened to be in there was enough to make the Once-ler's stomach lurch with a feeling that he would lose his lunch as well. His mouth was hot with the pre-vomiting bile that he seemed to always get at times like this, but it was no time to lose his rather expensive breakfast, however, because the strikingly masculine guard was prodding him to continue his distracting trek.

Apparently, men were not taken to Superjail! in suits often. The Once-ler, for the first time in his too brief life, was uneasy being the center of attention. It was odd going from a successful salesman with a blooming social life who wanted nothing more than to have all eyes on him to a convict trying to blend into whatever happened to be behind him without success. Vulgar promises were thrown like pointed knives from equally barbaric persons. These men would do much worse than kill him when Alice, the far too manly female guard, was not around.

The redhead kept her eyes forward though as though hers was the biggest, most masculine, body around, which it very well might have been. These petty criminals were far beneath her as she brought the pound's newest dog to be prepared for its kennel. Washing and redressing the inmates seemed to be standard protocol around here along with the assigning of the felon's prison number. The process was far from standard however. A machine disintegrated his four thousand dollar suit and confiscated his shoes and what other belongings he had on him, much to his indignation before dropping him onto a winding slide to be washed. Screams and yells could not be contained as his shaking naked body plummeted through belly flipping loops and nerve jump starting dips. The shiny water slide seemed just as likely to kill him as to clean him. When the body jarring twists and turns finally died down, he was deposited, shivering and dripping, to stand on a conveyor belt. The ground lurched into motion, moving him to stand surrounded by giant vents that blasted him with hot air to dry him. Finally snapped back to reality, the Once-ler huddled his bare form wishing for nothing more than to go home to his nice warm bed with it imported silk sheets. The strip of moving flooring stopped, leaving him naked before the Warden. The purple suited man had an almost stern expression sneered across his face.

A tapping noise drew the Once-ler's attention outwards to notice the folded orange jumpsuit situated between the two black haired men. "Sir, I've got the cell number and all but I'm afraid he's still in isolation." Dejected blue eyes trailed up to focus on Jared, the Warden's short balding assistant. The miniscule man's eyes darted nervously all around as he spoke. Sweat was still beading down his freakishly large forehead and his darkly circled eyes gave him the look of an addict experiencing withdrawals.

Rolling his eyes, the Warden looked incurably bored. The gap toothed man replied, "Whatever. Just put him with the whack job. It's the only room left. They'll meet when I decide to let him out of the box. It is not rocket science Jared. I don't see why I had to be here to tell you this." The Warden fell backwards to plop onto a purple throne that appeared from seemingly nowhere during his descent to catch the annoyed man just in time.

"Alright then," Jared made a motion with his hands that brought the Once-ler to his feet forcibly with the help of a huge black man. He was the jerked forward back to the ground but a new pair of hands caught his slender hips to hold his pale ass in the air. Jared's hig pitched whine began to rattle off a series of numbers slowly, cutting off the Once-ler's brief panic in his exposed position as a sharp pinching pain began to spread over his left cheek. "4 3 6 . . ." The intense pinch was enough to bubble a whimper from deep within him but the shivering man refused to allow it to escape him. He, at least, had that much dignity left. "5 6 8 . . . 2 2 9 . . ." this number seemed to last an eternity and the businessman swore it was the very worst in existence, to all of the senses. It sounded whiney and nerve wracking all at the same time in that almost nasally voice. It tasted of the bitter soaps he had accidentally ingested during his bath slide. It smelled sharply of urine, strong chemicals from the cheap cleansers, and a tad metallic probably from the infernal human labeling machine being used on his rear end. Of course it hurt, he was cold, and he had an idea forming of why this room smelled so strongly of urine. Worst of all was probably the view, Jared was as bland and unappealing as ever, Alice had gone off to do some other unspoken task, and that left the Warden as the only other feature of the cleanly disgusting room. The gap toothed bastard had the audacity to appear both smug and bored about the whole ordeal.

The whole thing was quite an unattractive sight. The Warden may bare some similarities to him but there was no accounting for the man's tastes. All over, colors clashed and battled and although some of the materials were of an acceptable quality, there was no getting past the gaudiness on the man's cane. Anxious gloved hands roamed tirelessly over the jewel encrusted gold surface in what must have been a nervous tick. A prize that expensive must have been the man's pride and joy. Money did not seem to come as easily to the Warden as it did to the Once-ler. Nothing here was appealing, the businessman decided. "1 0 3." With those last three numbers the sharp pinching fell away to leave a residual burning sting.

As the Warden stood, his chair imploded with a quite pop into empty space. "Jared, get him squared away, will you. I want everything to go perfectly tonight. You might as well let than villainous murderous traitor out and invite him as well." The man could go from in charge to fantasizing in a dreamy voice to dropping venom from his every word in a matter of seconds. The naked man's bony shoulders gave an involuntary jerk at his statement. Knowing that his roommate was considered a whack job and could possibly be this murderous traitor the Warden hated so made his blood turn to ice. He clothed himself with quivering clammy hands, trying to both picture his cell mate and expel the undoubtedly brutal man from his mind. Every image of the unnamed convict was worse than the last. While the pale slim body slipped on an orange jumpsuit with a patch matching the ink on his ass, his mind conjured up a rough image of a typical inmate for this particular penitentiary, leaving him with an image of a heavily muscled man scarred and blackened by ink by an unskilled artist. Every image after escalated into a vulgar image of a coal skinned behemoth with red eyes and an inhuman build when the fresh prisoner arrived in his new quarters. The cell was much more spacious than he would have imagined, even with two beds and a couple of chests. One bed was bare and the other was done up in blacks and yellows. Posters on the walls depicted beaches and logos in the same color scheme as the bed. Pulling back a black curtain exposed a sink and a toilet.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my quarters? Speak peasant!" Cringing at the authoritative voice the Once-ler turned to regard a golden mask.

Blue eyes widened in surprise before curiously drinking in the appearance of the new comer. He was of average build, not hulkingly monstrous like so many other inmates at this Superjail!. An orange jumpsuit clothed him just as it did the Once-ler. The biggest difference was that peculiarly shaped golden mask. It even had some weird spike protruding from it.

The newer convict straightened to stand at his full height and crossed his arms exuding every bit of power he held just the morning before even with his rear still stinging under the coarse weave of cheap orange cotton. "Who, you ask? Why, I am the Once-ler, maker of thneeds. These are my quarters as well Mr.?" The smooth talker let his question hang. Showing the other such respect should have been enough to quell his anger. Unfortunately, things that should happen never seem to for the Once-ler.

"Mr.? That is Lord Stingray to you! That damned Warden is not supposed to put anyone in my room. How did you get here?" Lord Stingray paused for just a moment, red eyes slits narrowing in suspicion. "Are you related to the Warden?" Even with his new attire, there were some similarities between the new inmate and the Warden, he had to admit. Both men were rather lanky with dark hair and light freckles but that was where their likeness ended in the Once-ler's opinion. The Warden was an uncultured psychopath.

"No, there's no relation," What would even make the strange convict believe that?

"Why then are you in my room I wonder. That Warden said no more roommates after what happened with that last one," Lord Stingray threw himself across his bed nonchalantly. The Once-ler knew a threat when he heard one but he couldn't quite get what it was. Did Stingray expect him to convince the jail workers to get another cell assignment? They had made this man seem like the most ruthless villain in the joint.

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Sorry about the wait. I wanted to post the whole second half of the story but I got guilt tripped by all of the fans of this story. I hope to post the rest soon. Enjoy!^.^


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